


The Early Years:  A Barbaric Mirkwood Tradition

by Minuial_Nuwing



Series: The Early Years [5]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-10
Updated: 2004-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuial_Nuwing/pseuds/Minuial_Nuwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Elladan and Elrohir's mithril nipple rings...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Early Years:  A Barbaric Mirkwood Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Irresponsible use of alcohol, explicit twincest, clueless Legolas
> 
> A/N: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts, when not used for simple emphasis.

************************************************************

_Elladan smirked and handed his twin a glass of miruvor, then turned to Legolas, who was eyeing him with a grin. "I am glad that I amuse you, ‘Las. What do you find worth such a smile?"_

_"I was remembering the night you got this," Legolas answered, lightly touching the mithril nipple ring that glimmered on Elladan’s chest. "I think it rich that the Princes of Imladris were persuaded by drink and dare to take part in a barbaric Mirkwood tradition - even if you only had stomach enough for one," he teased, indicating the pair of gold rings that graced his own nipples._

\--Princes Three: The Beginning, Chapter 3

*************************************************************

 

_~Mirkwood 1793 III~_

Legolas pulled himself to his full height, his chin lifted haughtily. The second-born prince of Mirkwood was a regal sight, the effect only slightly marred by the fact that he was shirtless and clinging to a tree trunk for support. “I yare dou,” he repeated tauntingly, a smug smile on his face.

Elrohir cocked his head thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in drunken concentration. “You yare dou?” he parroted suspiciously. Turning expectantly to his equally inebriated twin, he asked, “Do we yare dou?”

One ebony eyebrow arched in consideration as Elladan pondered the question, assisted by another tip of the wine bottle he grasped possessively. “I do not think so,” he replied cautiously, then reached a firmer decision. “Nay, I am sure we do not.”

Watching the exchange between his friends confusedly, Legolas suddenly burst into decidedly un-regal laughter as he realized what had gone awry. “I don’t _yare dou_,” he chortled, qualifying his earlier remark, “I _dare you_...I dare you to do it.”

“Do what? Who?” Elladan returned with obvious interest, a predatory grin beginning to spread across his face.

“Not _that_, certainly, ‘Dan,” Legolas replied in exasperation. “If there is an innocent of edding bage...I mean of _bedding age_...left in all of Elvendom, ‘tis not due to your lax efforts.” Sighing dramatically, he pointed at his own chest. “What were we discussing, gwadoren?”

“Oh,” Elladan said, his disappointment apparent. “The rings.”

“Aye, _the rings_,” Legolas agreed with a grin. “Well? Will you accept? Or are you too squeamish?”

“It is barbaric, ‘Las,” Elrohir interjected grumpily, folding his arms protectively across his own bare chest. “Why any elf would do such a thing...”

“The rings are tradition in Mirkwood,” Legolas explained earnestly. “The left ring is for first bedding, and done after our majority rites. The right ring is for first kill in battle.” Breaking into a brilliant grin, he added, “I daresay the two of you qualify for both rings.”

Two pairs of grey eyes met and locked, and Legolas huffed impatiently. “It is impolite to mindspeak...”

“...in public,” Elladan finished with a snicker. “Aye, so we have been told. Endlessly.” Looking at the prince speculatively, he went on, “We will do it...and we agree, the two of us qualify for both rings. I will take the left, ‘Roh the right.”

Legolas shook his head, “But both rings are...”

“We are twins, though, ‘Las,” Elrohir said ingratiatingly. “We have no need of four rings.”

Legolas frowned, struggling to mount an opposition to what admittedly seemed a reasonable argument.

“A vote,” Elladan announced suddenly. “We shall have a vote.”

Legolas considered the idea briefly, a suspicion that he was, in fact, being tricked nagging at his wine-blurred mind. “Aye, I suppose that is fair,” he granted finally. “I say you each need two rings.”

“I say one each,” Elrohir said quickly, glancing at his brother. “What do you think, ‘Dan?

“One,” Elladan replied promptly. “Definitely one.”

“Very well,” Legolas agreed with little grace, sure he had somehow been outmaneuvered by his friends, who were grinning broadly. “I wager you will wish you had agreed to both in a few days, though,” he chuckled mysteriously, the thought improving his mood greatly.

“Who commits this atrocity, then?” Elrohir asked with a sigh. “I would have it over ere I am too sober.”

“The left piercing is most oft done by the one who...well, by the one who took part in your majority rites,” Legolas finished quickly, the spirit-induced flush on his cheeks deepening slightly. “The right is carried out by your captain, usually after the first engagement.”

The twins’ gazes met again briefly and matching grins curled their lips. “He is not here,” they replied together, identical ebony eyebrows arching wryly.

“Nay, I suppose not,” Legolas agreed resignedly, though he glanced around as if expecting the unnamed elves to appear magically from the trees. “I could do it, I suppose.”

“Have you ever done so, ‘Las?” Elladan asked with remarkable calmness, folding his arms more tightly across his chest.

“Nay, I have not,” Legolas admitted. “But I do know how, in theory,” he added, his expression brightening thoughtfully.

“Absolutely not, Thranduilion,” Elrohir broke in firmly. “You will not approach _my_ chest with a pointed object, save on the practice field.”

Legolas raised one golden eyebrow in wordless comment, then broke into a broad grin. “Of course! I have the perfect solution - and we will not even be waking him at this wicked hour. Come with me.” Blue-green eyes twinkling he added, “And bring the wine.”

********************************

“Are you sure this is a good idea, híren?" the patrol captain asked warily, taking in the obviously intoxicated trio that had unexpectedly appeared at the gates. “Your friends are rather drunk.”

“As am I, Nóruigallon,” Legolas replied with a lop-sided grin, passing the half-empty botttle back to Elladan. “And it will probably seem a dire idea tomorrow,” he admitted. “But tonight they are willing.”

“Very well,” the captain agreed with a sigh. Turning to the twins, he added, “Sit down, híren. I will be but a moment.”

Returning with a small bowl and what appeared to be a piece torn from a towel, Nóruigallon looked at the twins expectantly. “Who will be first?" he asked, his gaze moving from one to the other.

“I will,” Elladan replied with a sigh. “What shall I do?”

“Can you sit on the wall?" the captain probed cautiously. “It would be easier, but if you are too...have had a bit too much wine, I mean, it will be no matter to remain on the floor.”

“I am not _that_ drunk,” Elladan insisted petulantly, lifting himself to sit on the waist high wall that surrounded the guard’s walk across the massive gates.

Unconvinced, Nóruigallon motioned Elrohir and Legolas to either side of Elladan. “Your pardon,” he said firmly, taking in all three of his guests, “But I will not risk Lord Elrond’s heir falling from the gates on my watch.”

“Which side will you have, then?" the captain asked, as he soaked the toweling in the clear spirits that filled the bowl.

“Left,” Elladan answered shortly, watching with uneasy interest as his chest was wiped liberally with the spirit-soaked cloth, causing his nipple to pebble in the cool air.

“’Tis customary to turn your head, 'Dan,” Legolas said quietly, drawing Elladan’s attention.

“Aye, it is,” Nóruigallon agreed, reaching into the bowl. “It will prevent your reflexes from ruining my work.”

“I do not see why I cannot wa..." Elladan began, his complaint ending in a wordless hiss as a stabbing pain streaked across his chest.

“There you are, híren,” Nóruigallon announced with a grin, dabbing a final time with the toweling. “Enjoy.” As an afterthought he added, “I thought mithril better than gold with your coloring. You can change it as you wish after a few days.”

Elladan looked down, unaccountably surprised to see a small ring of mithril gleaming palely against the dusky hue of his nipple, the sharp point guarded by a tiny frosty ball. Raising his head, Elladan met Elrohir’s darkened gaze.

_It is very becoming, tôren. Does it pain you?_

_A bit, rohir nín. It is naught to compare to Ada’s stitches, though._

_I shall make it better, el nín. Later._

“Never mind them, Nóruigallon,” Legolas said with a smile. “They have yet to learn proper manners.”

Turning to Elrohir, he handed over the wine bottle with a grin. “Your turn, ’Roh.”

****************************************

“It is beautiful here, ‘Las," Elladan confided, looking up at the stars that twinkled through the rustling leaves.

Legolas stretched luxuriously on the lightweight blankets that covered the open platform. “It is a beautiful night,” he agreed, turning to look at his friend. “It would be a shame to spend it indoors, I think.”

“Indeed it would,” Elrohir chimed in, rolling to look across his twin at Legolas, who had happily claimed the last of the final bottle of heady Dorwinion wine. Acutely aware of the warm body beside him, Elrohir breathed a silent plea to any interested Vala in which the quick and blissful unconciousness of a certain Mirkwood royal figured prominently.

Elladan reached up to touch the mithril ring that glittered against his brother’s right nipple, the caress quickly turning into an impersonal healer’s touch as he became aware of Legolas' curious gaze. “Does it hurt, 'Roh?”

“A bit, aye,” Elrohir answered, suppressing a shudder as Elladan's fingers ghosted over his skin, the seemingly professional touch belied by the obsidian glitter of Elladan’s eyes.

_You are wicked, tôren._

_Perhaps. Will he slip into a peaceful stupor, do you think? _

_Aye, I think so. A shame, really. He is very fair._

_Elrohir! He is also very young, is he not?_

_True, tôren. And we need no guest tonight._

Watching the silent conversation with amused tolerance, Legolas found himself pondering the bond his friends shared, so different from that between he and his brothers. His eyelids growing heavy, the prince wondered with drunken lucidity if they were aware of what a sensual sight they were, mirror images separated by a mere hands breadth, their gazes locked in such intimate communication...

“’Las?" Elladan said softly. “Are you awake, gwadoren?”

“Hmm?" Legolas managed, forcing his eyes open with an effort. “Only for a moment. Good night, my friends.”

“Sleep well,” Elladan replied with a smile, moving to cover the drowsy form with a loosely woven spread. A scant moment later deep, steady breathing heralded the prince’s slide into sleep.

Stretching out beside his brother, Elladan grinned down into midnight-dark eyes, where desire wrestled furiously with wine-induced lethargy. “And are _you_ awake, rohir nín ?" he asked teasingly, lowering his head to lick languidly at one ear tip.

“I believe I will manage a few more minutes,” Elrohir purred, turning his head to capture Elladan's mouth in a lingering kiss, his tongue tangling lazily with his lover’s as teeth nipped and nibbled. Burying his hands in the curtain of ebony hair that fell around him, Elrohir pulled his twin closer, narrowing the distance between until their legs tangled, drawing their legging-clad hips tightly together. A blended growl escaped as both arched into the delicious friction, and they froze as Legolas stirred restlessly, apparently disturbed by the sounds of pleasure.

_He has indecent hearing, even for an elf._

_He does, indeed, rohir nín. We must be nearly silent, I fear._

_Aye, we must. I suppose glowing is out of the question?_

Elladan snickered softly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Aye, tôren, I daresay glowing is out of the question. I have no wish for an audience.” When Elrohir raised an eyebrow skeptically, Elladan amended, “Tonight, at least. And the glow is private on any night, hmm?”

“It is,” Elrohir agreed with a smile. Pushing Elladan gently over into the blankets, he whispered, “What would you have then, if we may not glow?”

“Your mouth,” Elladan breathed, reaching up to draw his brother closer as teasing lips settled on his throat.

Feeling a gentle nip, Elladan grabbed his brother's hand, causing Elrohir to raise his head in surprise. “What is amiss, el nín?" he asked quietly, concern creasing his brow.

“You should not mark me,” Elladan answered reluctantly. “It would be difficult to explain in the morning.”

Elrohir nodded soberly, then a dazzling grin spread across his face.

_You are right, ‘Dan. It would be hard to explain...if anyone could see it._

Slithering down his brother's body, Elrohir left a trail of wet kisses in his wake, careful to avoid marking the translucent skin. Pausing at the unfamiliar nipple adornment, he gingerly extended his tongue, wiggling the piercing ring gently. Elladan hissed sharply, grabbing a fistful of silken black hair, yet arched up into the sensation.

Intrigued, Elrohir repeated the movement before drawing back to look at his brother questioningly. “It is a little painful, but there is such a pleasant tingle..." Elladan explained breathlessly, his eyes nearly black with desire.

Reaching the top of his twin’s leggings, Elrohir loosed the lacing, tugging the leather down to expose his lover to the cool air. With only a teasing lick for Elladan's arousal, he pressed his mouth to the tender spot where stomach and groin met, biting and sucking a deep red- purple bruise into the fair skin.

Elladan bit down hard on his own hand, struggling to keep from crying out in pleasure as his neglected shaft was suddenly engulfed, sliding smoothly into the wet warmth of Elrohir’s mouth. Groaning despite his best efforts, he thrust up, panting as he was swallowed completely, Elrohir's rippling throat muscles kneading him rhythmically.

_Wait, rohir nín._

_For what?_

_Come up here. I would taste you, also._

Allowing his brother’s erection to slip from his mouth, Elrohir slid up into a fiery kiss, gasping as nimble fingers opened his leggings and curled around his throbbing shaft. Rolling slowly, Elladan forced Elrohir onto his back, then lapped gently at the newly pierced nipple, drawing a whimpering groan from Elrohir.

Once again, Legolas shifted restlessly, as though disturbed by the nearly inaudible sounds of pleasure emanating from the twins’ blankets. Both Elladan and Elrohir stopped moving, struggling to quiet their labored breathing as the prince settled back into a heavy slumber. Midnight-dark eyes met in relief, as the steady sound of the Legolas' breathing filled the air once again.

Turning his body gracefully, Elladan quickly lowered his head, running a teasing tongue over Elrohir’s weeping shaft before taking it into his mouth, to begin moving in earnest. Elrohir forced back a ragged moan, his head lolling for a moment as he lost himself in the sensation. Focused on pleasuring Elrohir, Elladan nearly shouted when his own hardened length was drawn back into the slippery heat of his brother’s mouth, and strong fingers dug into his thighs, pulling him deeper still. Feeling his own release fast approaching, Elladan grasped his twin’s hips tightly, swallowing around the throbbing length that filled his mouth and sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks even as he felt his own groin tighten forcefully.  

Only long years of practice - and a good portion of luck - kept Elrohir from being rather unpleasantly bitten as Elladan released convulsively, his whimpers and moans thankfully muffled when he swallowed forcefully one last time, the firm caress of his throat bringing on Elrohir’s completion, as well.  Gasping for breath, Elladan crawled back up beside his twin, re-lacing both their leggings before curling contentedly into the offered embrace. “Love you, ‘Roh,” he murmured sleepily, the wine and the night's exertions finally taking their toll.

“Love you, tôren,” Elrohir whispered, his eyes already slipping closed.

****************************

Legolas woke just before dawn, stretching with feline-like enjoyment before sitting up and glancing at his friends. Half expecting the twins to be up and waiting to tease him about his late rising, he was amazed to find them still soundly asleep, curled around one another like drowsy elflings. He briefly considered waking them in some annoying fashion, only to find he had not the heart to disturb the peaceful picture thay made. Smiling fondly, Legolas carefully laid another blanket over the tangled forms, then stretched out to watch the sun rise. And wait.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Nóruigallon - fiery hero

 

gwadoren - my sworn brother  
híren - my lord(s)  
el nín - my star  
rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother

 


End file.
